


The First Snow

by analineblue



Category: No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-29
Updated: 2011-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-03 14:39:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/analineblue/pseuds/analineblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shion had never thought about things like this before he met Nezumi – the beauty of the outside world, of the seasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Around this time of year, I seem to always want to write about snow. Possibly because there is no snow where I live now, and probably never will be. Go figure. ^_~

“It’s such a cliché,” Nezumi says, forging ahead through the snow, laying down a path for Shion’s feet to follow in. He waves his hand in front of him, like he does when he’s about to say something he wants Shion to pay attention to. “All that bullshit about the first snow covering the ground and making everything fresh and crisp and new, but it’s really true here. No one would believe how much garbage is buried underneath all this white.” 

They’re standing at the top of a small hill, and it allows them the perfect vantage point to look out over the sprawling expanse of the West Block. Shion thinks it’s beautiful, the way the snow shines and sparkles over everything in the dusky light of the evening. He’s sure that Nezumi will make fun of him if he says anything though, so he keeps quiet, and just takes it all in. He’s also fairly certain that Nezumi would probably agree with him, that he thinks all of this is beautiful, too. Otherwise, why else would they be out here. Shion smiles a little, and watches the snowflakes as they fall steadily around them. 

Shion had never thought about things like this before he met Nezumi – the beauty of the outside world, of the seasons. Maybe it was because inside No. 6, the seasons had always felt so artificial, so scheduled. When the snow fell—which it did, at least a few times each year--it was immediately scooped away, off the streets and the sidewalks, and residents were advised to stay indoors until it melted. The quick removal was necessary, otherwise the trains wouldn’t be able to run and the cars wouldn’t be able to pass along the roads. It would have been far too dangerous. At least, that’s what they’d said, and that’s what Shion had always believed. Now he couldn’t help but wonder if someone hadn’t just meant to suppress _this_. If someone had feared what might happen, if this beauty were allowed to be observed and experienced. 

Then again, he wonders why he himself had never even thought to come out and watch the snow like this, to stand out on the veranda and let the flakes fall on his shoulders and his nose. He hadn’t done that back then, not even once. 

Shion takes a step, and his shoe sinks into a fresh snowdrift. He can feel the cold seeping in through his socks. It’s wet against his skin, but he doesn’t mind. He takes another step, and then he realizes that Nezumi is watching him. His eyes are soft, and there’s a strange, gentle smile on his face. It turns quickly into a frown when he realizes that Shion has noticed him.

“Your feet are going to freeze like that.” 

Shion shakes his head. “I don’t mind.” 

“You’ll mind when you end up with frostbite.” 

“Highly unlikely. The exposure time isn’t nearly long enough to-“

Shion finds himself cut off by Nezumi’s palm pressing firmly over his lips. It’s warm from where it’d been shoved into his pocket, and soft. He can feel the tips of Nezumi’s long fingers where they press into his skin.

“Yes, yes, your highness,” Nezumi says, his eyes fixed on the expanse of space in front of them. “Far be it from me to deny you your right to freeze to death.”

The snow is picking up again; the flakes are becoming heavier, more concentrated. Shion’s chest feels light though -- it’s as if there’s something, some emotion, maybe, that just can’t be contained, it’s practically bubbling out of him. Unable to help himself, he starts to laugh as soon as Nezumi’s hand releases him. He reaches out to catch a snowflake on his fingertips, and is amazed at the speed with which the snow accumulates in his hand. He glances at Nezumi. There are tiny piles of white dust gathering on his shoulders, and on top of his scarf, even on his cheeks, which are rosy now from the cold. He watches Nezumi breathe out, puffs of smoke that escape from his lips and then fade away after a moment.

_His face is as beautiful as the snow--no, it’s more beautiful_ , Shion thinks as he watches him, observing the soft lines and angles of his jaw, and his eyes, glittering in the twilight. 

Shion leans in until he’s so close he can feel those short puffs of breath against his nose, can practically feel the tension in Nezumi’s shoulders as he draws himself up, tall and straight. At night sometimes, Shion slides his body up next to Nezumi’s in the darkness, under the covers, and then he feels that tension fade away, can literally feel it being carried off into the air the longer he stays close, until he’s able to match the rhythm of his breath with the rise and fall of Nezumi’s chest, but out here, he knows that the tension in Nezumi’s shoulders won’t fade so easily. He allows himself another moment anyway, and reaches out to touch his fingertip to Nezumi’s cheek. 

“There’s snow on your eyelashes, Nezumi,” Shion says. “And your face.”

“Of course there is,” he says. “It’s _snowing_. You’ve got some on yours too.” 

Shion moves away, and watches Nezumi’s shoulders relax. 

“It’s beautiful,” Shion says, cupping his hand to collect several large, fluffy flakes. 

“It’s only beautiful because you can’t see what’s underneath.” 

“No,” Shion says, shaking his head. “Even knowing that, it’s still beautiful.” 

Shion is watching the way Nezumi’s fingers sweep the snow from his shoulders gracefully. He shakes his head, and the snowflakes rain down around him like confetti.

“Well, whatever,” Nezumi says. “I’m going inside. It’s freezing out here.”

Shion supposes his feet are starting to get a little cold now. He wiggles his toes around inside his shoe. Obviously, the wetness hasn’t gone anywhere. And so he agrees, and follows Nezumi back home, surrounded by the blue-grey blanket of snowfall. As the snow crunches under their feet, and swirls around their ankles, Shion wonders how anyone could even think to suppress any of this. Why they’d want to. Why anyone would let them. 

**

“I’m never going to understand it all, am I, Nezumi…” Shion asks, wriggling his toes in front of the heater to let them thaw out a bit. Their wet clothes—his socks and trousers, and Nezumi’s scarf-- are draped over the couch, drying off. “It just feels so vast, sometimes. All the things I don’t know.”

Nezumi rolls his eyes. “Only one way to find out the truth,” Nezumi says, running a towel over his head, and then passing it to Shion. “You ask. Not that I’m arguing with you,” he adds, “the sheer capacity of what you don’t know is certainly vast.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

Nezumi fixes him with a familiar, exasperated look, and then shakes his head. 

“Right. That’s me, always the optimist. Now,” Nezumi says, crossing into the area that has been appropriated, since Shion’s arrival (or so he’s been told), into a makeshift kitchen. “Are you hungry?”

Shion smiles. The mice in the corner already seem to know his answer -- they look to Nezumi, and then to Shion expectantly, chirping up at him. He’s definitely hungry. 

That, and he’s grateful that sometimes, some questions _do_ have easy answers, even here.

**end**


End file.
